


Solemn Duty

by TheBlindBandit



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Bad French, F/F, Silver Millennium, Terrible Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2319194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sailor Neptune has trouble keeping her head in the game. Multi-era Haruka/Michiru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solemn Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Promptfic for docholligay's Tumblr HaruMichi Circle Same Prompt Fic Party.  
> Prompt: As your girlfriend, I will make it my duty to turn you on at the most inappropriate of times.

Sailor Neptune knew, on a rational level, that as one of the kingdom’s frontline protectors she ought to be thankful for every peaceful moment afforded to her in her long life, celebrating each day that went by without a youma incursion or familiar threatening rise in dark energies.

And yet she couldn’t quite force herself to do any of these things. Peace meant she was stranded in Triton Castle with nothing much to do except think, and these days she found thinking was a very dangerous activity because all thoughts inevitably led to _her_.

It was all highly unprofessional, of course, and, even overlooking the sheer impracticality of any even vague, theoretical relationship between two Outer Senshi, it would be a danger to their mission and could simply never work for a thousand different reasons. She thought, sometimes, not without bitterness - and then felt slightly guilty about it almost immediately - of the Princess’ Inner Guard, comfortably stationed in the Moon Palace, all of them together, within earshot of each other, able to see each other whenever they wanted, and, if it came right down to it, able to touch-

The incoming signal alert on her console sounded shrilly, jerking her out of her thoughts and away from a descent into brooding. Brooding was what Uranus did, anyway, not Neptune, never Neptune. It was time to get some of herself back under control.

“Neptune!”

And there she was, the cause of almost all her current troubles, looking sternly down on her from a giant viewscreen – and also, for reasons unknown, covered from head to toe in what appeared to be slightly reddish mud, her usually unruly and springy hair tinted unrecognisably dark and plastered to her head. She seemed to have splashed some water on her face in an attempt to get the worst of the gunk off, without much success – the rivulets running from her fiercely furrowed brows down to her chin only helped to complete the look.

“Uranus, what happened to you?”

“We may have a situation. I’m patching Pluto in, hold on,” not even a second went by and the screen was split neatly into two, one half dotted with reddish-brown droplets thanks to Uranus’ annoyed head shake, the other showing the completely unsurprised visage of Sailor Pluto who merely nodded a greeting.

“I haven’t sensed anything recently, and,” a brief moment of focusing inward was all it took for Neptune to confirm her suspicions, “the sea is completely quiet. What is going on?”

“I was ambushed, there’s no other word for it.”

“Ambushed? Who by?”

“Pluto,” Uranus’ casual brushoff took Neptune slightly aback, “do you know if Serenity ordered some sort of controversial construction project on Miranda? Because a group of protesters got the drop on me during my patrol. This _really_ isn’t our department and I can’t exactly fight my own civilians. I’d appreciate if I was allowed to do my job without disruptions.”

“Oh, the Caelus Towers? Yes, there’s been some talk at the Palace about those. Nothing that sounded this serious. I’ll contact the Queen immediately.” And with that, Pluto was gone, leaving Neptune once again face-to-face with the now slightly more relaxed bane of her existence – who deserved at least a little payback teasing for her earlier rudeness.

“A group of civilian protesters successfully ambushed the mighty Sailor Uranus? My, I hope our enemies don’t hear about this.”

“Hah, yeah,” Uranus had the decency to look slightly abashed, but was nonetheless giving her that rakish, crooked grin that never failed to turn Neptune’s knees watery, “this is going to be so much fun to wash off, too, even with the highest intensity setting on the showers. Must be great for you, though, with your powers – you never have problems like this, I bet.”

“I… can’t exactly say I’ve ever used my powers for personal hygiene, no.”

“Really? A shame. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have your powers, then, because I’d abuse them _all_ the time.”

The beautifully detailed images running through her head of Uranus dumping sparkling magical water all over her uniform-clad self were too much for Neptune’s current state of mind. It was time to cut this conversation short, before she said something she was bound to regret.

“I- I have a painting to finish. If you don’t need me anymore?”

“No, no, I don’t, it’s fine, you can go. Pluto’s handling it.”

Neptune forced a small smile and bit back a rather pathetic _but I_ want _you to need me_ as she ended the call and turned away. A new painting felt exactly like what she had to do.

—

She’d been Sailor Neptune for almost a year now, and had had Sailor Uranus by her side for what would soon be a full fortnight of this time - yet the distracting thoughts she’d promised herself she’d keep down were _still_ happening with an alarming regularity. It was all getting frankly ridiculous.

The surprisingly non-awful visions and dreams had followed her almost from the very start of her life as a soldier. Some of them had at first left her even more of a mess than the original ones of death and destruction that had led to her awakening, shocking not with their world-shattering gloom, but in their intensity and warmth. But as she’d learned to live with the first kind, she’d developed ways of dealing with these, too – another private sketchbook, a few canvases hastily painted over later, and showers and baths noticeably longer than her admittedly already long usual. She remembered patches of the life of the Sailor Neptune just before her in vivid detail, and she felt her former self’s often frustrated feelings spill over and tangle with her own more and more. Still, if there was anything Michiru Kaioh was good at, it was control. Of herself, over her environment, and over the people in it. She’d get a grip on herself soon.

But soon couldn’t come quickly enough. She’d thought her inane crush on Japan’s hottest new junior racer had been too much, but this? This was nothing compared to that, in intensity or flavour. There was a longing and a hunger mixed with a strange, almost nostalgic feeling when she looked at Uranus, glorious and golden and bathed in power right from her very first transformation. Every time Uranus lifted her right hand and tilted her head to fiercely bark out her attack, Neptune felt her breath hitch and her gaze linger over her comrade-in-arms.

It was distracting. Dangerously so, because the daemons they had to fight didn’t seem to share Michiru’s weakness for gorgeous women.

The one facing them today used to be a decorative pincushion and was thus supplied with a rather troublesome arsenal of attacks involving spikes, needles and darts. This was hardly the right time to stop and admire the strong column of Uranus’ throat, accentuated perfectly by the rich blue choker-

“Neptune, look out!”

Before she could even fully snap out of her horribly-timed reverie, Uranus was slamming into her and pushing them both safely out of the monster’s line of fire. The momentum sent them tumbling down a grassy slope, finally landing in a conveniently soft pile of freshly fallen leaves, with Neptune comfortably perched on top of a spread-eagled Uranus.

Now _this_ was a position she happened to remember quite well, and if she leaned down she could almost-

“Michiru? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Michiru?”

Hearing the familiar voice speak with a most un-Uranian inflection was jarring and brought her back to reality, quite uncharacteristically embarrassed. This just wasn’t _her_ , Michiru Kaioh didn’t do things like this. Troublesomely persistent memories of past lives or no, this was not how it was supposed to go at all. Needing a certain adjustment period was fine, but two weeks should have been more than enough time, surely? She was over Haruka, over Uranus, over the annoyingly persistent fascination with her - with both of them. She’d decided as much (hadn’t she?) the minute she’d gotten back to her senses after that embarrassing episode on the garage floor, no matter that it had landed her her longed-for partner in the first place.

A quick mental inventory told her that everything seemed to be in place and in working order, if a bit scratched up, grass-stained and bruised.

“I- I don’t think so. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Er, could you let me get up, then? The daemon is still over there, who knows what it might do.”

Neptune felt her cheeks heat up again, to her immense chagrin. She had never been much of a blusher and she’d be damned if she was going to make it a habit now. Disentangling herself from her partner’s long limbs as quickly as was (super)humanly possible, Neptune turned and determinedly marched back up the hill without a word.

By the time Uranus caught up with her, the daemon was nothing but a broken egg and a salty pincushion in a puddle of water.

—

“Haruka! Michiru! Setsunaaa!”

The pleasant calm of the trio’s habitually mostly quiet just-after-lunch stroll was shattered by an excited, eager Usagi running towards them. Inevitably, her sandal got caught on a paving stone edge, sending her barrelling straight into Haruka.

“Unf! Hello, Kitten! How are you doing today?”

Before Usagi could even begin to put together an answer, a slight, obviously upset young girl ran up to the group and thrust a crinkled-up town map right in front of Haruka’s nose.

“ _Excusez-moi_ , _monsieur_ , I was wondering, could you… assist?” she began, stumblingly and almost desperately, nervously poking at the map all the while, “Ehh, _comment se dit_ … train station?“

Haruka’s face brightened noticeably and Michiru knew, to her exasperation, exactly what was coming.

“ _Vous avez besoin des directions? Je peux vous aider, chère mademoiselle, pas de problèmes._ ”

The French words tumbled easily and sweetly from Haruka’s lips, and as she gave the requested directions to the girl – in a far more low and seductive voice and standing much closer to her than the situation warranted, certainly – even Michiru found herself slightly distracted. She forced herself out of the spell, however, and pointedly turned her attention from Haruka to an astounded Usagi, waiting for the lost girl to memorise Haruka’s shortcut explanation and be on her way.

The way Usagi’s mouth was left hanging open long after the conversation ended and the foreign girl left would put to shame even some of the more exotic fish in Michiru’s aquarium. “Wooow, Haruka can speak French!”

“Well,” Haruka’s smug preening was limitless today, apparently. Michiru held back a sigh and felt the beginnings of a plan form in her mind. “Just a bit I picked up here and there. Anyway, I-”

“Blowing your own horn, Haruka, really?” Setsuna was muttering under her breath, pointedly out of earshot of everyone but Michiru, who decided to take this as encouragement.

“Oh, no, don’t let her fool you, she’s quite good at it,” Michiru expertly inserted herself into the conversation before Haruka could utter another word, plastering on her most neutral and unassuming of faces. “She’s also improved her Italian immensely thanks to those seasonal events in Monza. She might not look it, but my Haruka is _quite_ the skilled and talented linguist.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Michiru saw Haruka stiffen, her previously puffed up demeanour draining out of her with a speed that was amazing to behold. She was frozen in place, a slight pink blush already covering her cheeks, wary of what was coming next. Well, Michiru supposed years of being exposed to her innocent act and bearing the brunt of its fallout could do that to a person.

Usagi, bless the ever-oblivious dear, was still gazing at Haruka with a mixture of admiration and amazement, nodding along the praise eagerly. Michiru saw no reason to stop.

“Mhm. And with German, my! Some of those devilish tongue-twisters she manages with very little issue and _such_ great ardour, you could almost call it breathtaking.”

There was a muffled choking sound from Haruka’s general direction, telling Michiru it was, at last, time to turn and give Haruka her full attention for the first time since the conversation began.

“Oh? Haruka? You don’t look so well, are you alright? You’re all flushed. It’s a very hot, dry day - when was the last time you had something to drink?”

Michiru drew closer to her increasingly flustered partner without waiting for a response. Grasping her arm gently and standing on tiptoe, she lightly yet insistently touched her fingertips to Haruka’s lips.

“Oh, my, yes. Your mouth is completely dry,” and then the final, loaded look, a slight smile that could almost be called impish, and a whisper, “ _I can help you with that_.”

Haruka was gaping, red to the tips of her ears. Michiru allowed her smile to widen at this, schooling her features so as not to show _all_ of her complete and utter satisfaction with the way events were unfolding.

“I’m afraid we must cut this meeting short, Usagi. We really need to go home so I can properly take care of Haruka.”

“Oh, yes, of course, Michiru!” Usagi chirped happily at her, “See you some other time! Feel better soon, Haruka!”

The two had barely gone out of sight behind the nearest street corner when a concerned sigh escaped Usagi. “I hope Haruka will be fine! Being sick is awful.”

“Don’t worry, Usagi,” Setsuna supplied dryly, completely inured to the couple’s antics, ”I’m sure the both of them will manage. Did you or Small Lady have any plans for today? I happen to find myself with a free afternoon I wasn’t quite expecting.”

-

“Michiru?”

“Hm?”

“Am I really only _almost_ breathtaking?”

“Well, nobody is perfect-”

“Except you.”

“ _Flatterer_. I’m not criticising, I’m just saying: all of us have room for improvement in most aspects of our lives.”

A beat.

“Would you like to practice?”

“You’re merciless. What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

“Oh, Haruka. You have _no_ idea.”


End file.
